


Skewering a Hawke

by barbex



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Hawke has no shame, Hawke is a professional, M/M, Size Kink, Slut Praising, no slut shaming inside, professional slut, what's the opposite of slut shaming?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/pseuds/barbex
Summary: Hawke is a professional. He may have retired from the escort service but for one very special client he gladly takes up the job again. I mean, have you seen that bulge?Prostitution AU, no slut shaming inside.
Relationships: Arishok/Male Hawke
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	Skewering a Hawke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollyand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/gifts).



> Happy Everything, [Hollyand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand)! Have some porn.  
> If it looks familiar, it's because it's based on your Black Emporium list.
> 
> Thanks to [Cullenlovesmen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cullenlovesmen) for editing and giggling with me over this.

* * *

"So, listen," Varric says after guiding Hawke into his suite at the Hanged Man. "I got a very specific request for the old escort service."

Garrett Hawke sprawls himself out on Varric's bed and beats the pillow into shape to support his elbow. At his size, all the other chairs are uncomfortably small and Varric never gives up his big, stuffed chair. "I thought you closed that down years ago."

"Kept it on a low burn, it's just two girls and a guy, doing some Hightown stuff. All very nice, very discreet, hardly any work for good pay and all I have to do is organize their schedules and have them checked regularly by Anders." Varric settles down in his chair and puts his feet up. "Really, it would be stupid to give up such an easy thing and I like Lilith, Patricia, and Sethel too much to just hand them over to some—"

"— hey, it's fine, I'm the last person you have to justify yourself to. It's good work and you're a good boss."

"Would you be willing to do another job?"

Hawke stretches his legs until his feet sit flat against the wall. "You know I'm not doing this anymore."

"This is a special client." 

"How special?"

"Very. This is right up your alley. Actually, you paved this alley so well, they changed its name to Hawke-Alley."

Hawke sits up and gives Varric his full attention. "How is that alley paved?"

"Well, it's paved with — naw, I think that metaphor has run its course. Fact is, I know you, my man, and I know what you like."

Hawke couldn't be more focused if he tried and the anticipation already has him straining against the confines of his trousers. "Out with it, who is it?"

"The Arishok."

"No."

"Yes."

It's not often that Hawke is speechless. In fact, he heard of a bet going around that sits at several pieces of gold that he never ever shuts up. But now, words fail him.

Varric grins. "And before you ask, yes, he asked for the premium package, full service, and has agreed to pay extra for, uhm, special preparations and aftercare."

Hawke still has no words but his imagination is already running wild. The Arishok! Those shoulders, those horns, those hips. That bulge! That mind blowing bulge that promises a most magnificent cock! He's not ashamed to admit to himself and whoever asks that he has a giant size kink and just thinking about the Arishok's cock has his mouth watering and his trousers feeling even tighter.

"I'm aware you retired from that line of work but in this case..."

Hawke finds a scrap of voice somewhere in the dry riverbed of his throat. "Are you kidding me?" His fingernails dig into his knees. "When?"

"Two days from now at the Summer's Fest. The Arishok asks for a polite escort to the festivities and the full service afterwards." 

"Two days, huh?" Garrett mentally clears his schedule, making a note of the odd job at the coast he was meant to do that he needs to postpone. Not that he has lived a chaste life in recent years but the Arishok needs a bit more preparation. Anders will have to make him a potion, or maybe a salve. 

Two days later, the Viscount welcomes a gaggle of Hightown residents and what passes as noble in this dirthole of a town to the square in front of the chantry. While the common folk dance and laugh in the open square, the nobles and guests take their drinks at the top of the stairs, watching the activities from above. 

Garrett has his not-exactly-dainty arm linked through the tree trunk sized arm of the Arishok and wears his most pleasant smile. He has already introduced the leader of the qunari to every nervous noble that dared to come close to them, and now all he can do is nibble on some pretentious pastry that tries very hard to be an orlesian delicacy. Which it fails at. 

The Arishok is not interested in holding a conversation with him or anyone else, and if it weren't for the large plug in his ass deliciously widening his rim, Hawke would be bored out of his mind. As it is, shifting his weight from one leg to the other provides him with gentle ripples of pleasure that keep him entertained well enough. 

"How long?" the Arishok asks. 

His deep voice sends another shiver down Garrett's spine and he twists his hip a bit to add to the arousing pressure in his ass. He turns to the qunari, not hiding his flushed cheeks. What do qunari know about human arousal anyway? He has to look up to the Arishok's face, another new experience; there's not many people that Garrett has to look up to. "How long what?"

"How long do we have to stay here?" The Arishok appears to be bored, but Garrett is the first to admit that he can't read qunari facial expressions at all.

"We can leave right now, if you want." Garrett puts his glass on a table and pats the Arishok's arm. "There's no obligation to stay here all night."

The Arishok frowns, possibly, or maybe he's just thinking hard, but he nods at last and stalks down the stairs without another word, dragging Garrett along. If this were a sensible city, a carriage would wait for them and carry them back to the compound, but with all the bloody stairs in this place, all they get is a set of rickshaws pulled by members of the transport guild, moving them from stairs to stairs until they reach the compound.

Garrett has at several points through this journey either regretted or enjoyed having put that plug in his ass. By the time they reach the qunari compound in Lowtown, Garrett is a trembling, sweaty mess. His hard-on threatens to burst through his trousers, his lower body throbs with unfulfilled need, and if he wasn't hanging off those mouth-wateringly strong arms of the Arishok, he would have lost his footing the moment they left the rickshaw. 

But Garrett is a professional and the name Hawke may stand for many things but certainly not for whimpering sex mess, so he squares his shoulders, clenches his ass until he sees stars, and walks into the compound with his head held high. His fingers dig into the Arishok's skin maybe a bit harder than they should, but the qunari doesn't seem to notice.

Several Sten line the path to the Arishok's tent, their expressions unreadable. Not that Garrett cares either way. He knows why he's here and doesn't give a fuck if everyone else knows it too.

The Arishok holds the tent open and lets him go past him into the dimly lit and surprisingly lush interior. The floor is covered with carpets and on a raised platform twice the size of Garrett's ridiculously large bed, a pile of blankets and cushions promises soft comforts. 

"I must admit," Garrett says, putting his bag down, trembling as the plug moves again, "this is nicer than I expected." He turns to the Arishok, who has closed the tent behind him but hasn't moved. Hawke quickly shrugs out of his jacket and shoes, placing them on a box near the entrance. As Varric has always said, you never know how well you got your marbles together after a session, so you better keep your stuff all in one place and close to the door. A good lesson, and while Garrett makes a bit of a production about undressing himself, he makes sure that all his things are neatly folded in a single pile on top of his shoes.

At last he stands naked before the Arishok, save for the slim strips of the leather harness that keep the plug in place. He's been bending over most deliberately this whole time, showing off his objectively — yes, objectively! — pretty backside and the plug, and now twirls around twice for his watcher. At last he bends over once more, twitching his ass cheeks one after the other, one of his special moves, but still, the Arishok doesn't react. 

"I see," Garrett says. A difficult client the Arishok seems to be but nothing he can't handle. He saunters over to the qunari and trails his fingertips over the astonishingly wide expanse of grey skin and muscles. "Would you like me to suck your cock for a start, darling?"

Something moves in that harsh face. Garrett tries to recognize the emotion between the frown on the Arishok's forehead and the frown around his mouth, but he fails.

"Yes," the Arishok rumbles, "that would be acceptable."

Garrett needs a moment to remember that he asked a question; the Arishok's voice is distracting. If the qunari speaks much more, the most professional prostitute of Kirkwall is going to come untouched like a green chantry boy.

He kneels down and takes a deep breath of delicious, manly musk before he begins his exploration of qunari fashion. It involves belts, for the most part — frustrating belts that seem to reconnect elsewhere once he has unbuckled them on one side. 

"Kata!" the Arishok calls out, swatting his hands away. Garrett's grasp of qunlat is tenuous at best but he interprets this command, and it _clearly_ is a command, as meaning to stop, so he sits back on his haunches, gasping as the plug presses against his prostate, and watches the Arishok undress. He is very efficient and in no time at all, Garrett's eyes fall on the largest and most beautiful hard cock he has ever seen.

"By the Maker's ass, you have a magnificent cock, I wish Anders was here to see that, this is a work of art! In all my life — "

"Maraasa!" 

That probably means 'shut up'. Garrett shakes his head. "Sorry but this cock, this amazing beauty, this gigantic gift, deserves songs and poems to be sung from the rooftops — "

"Maraasa basra!" The Arishok grabs Garrett by the back of his head and pushes his face into his crotch, mumbling something in qunlat. He almost breaks Garrett's nose on his cock. 

"Ah, yes." That was a rather obvious hint. 

Garrett wraps his hands around the magnificent cock and stretches his jaw. He opens his mouth as wide as he can and lowers it on the tip. Even without much of a gag-reflex, he can just barely fit the head into his mouth and has to resort to pumping with his hands, instead of his usual way of swallowing around a penis. To make up for it, he takes extra care to lick and suck and stroke into every wrinkle and crevice with his tongue. 

He hollows his cheek to suck as hard as he can, the hand on the back of his head pressing him forward. The Arishok starts to groan, his claws digging into Hawke's scalp and he works his hands faster. Garrett has never worked this hard at a handjob, rubbing and squeezing, keeping the rhythm between his mouth and his hands synced. But he loves it and can't wait to learn what the cum from this cock will taste like.

The Arishok's giant hand presses down on his head and Garrett slides his hands down once more, sucking hard and then he drowns. Almost drowns. His mouth fills with the Arishok's seed, overflowing, and he pulls away from the cock to take it all over his face and chest. The taste is rich and salty with a hint of liquorice, delicious in so many ways, and Garrett licks and swallows as much as he can take, the rest dripping down his chest. 

Garrett sits back again, angling his ass so that the plug moves inside of him just right. He is so hard, his cock dripping and twitching. This is quickly turning into his favourite job ever, there's nothing better than being desperate to get fucked on a job, to not have to pretend.

"Get up there and turn around, basra," the Arishok growls and Garrett shudders, hurrying to climb on the platform and drape himself over a pile of pillows.

Yes, definitely not pretending here.

The Arishok hums when he sees the plug, grabbing the base of it and pushing it in deeper with a twist. Garrett moans, stars blinking in his vision. Then he cries out because the Arishok yanks the plug out without warning. He didn't even notice the Arishok had removed the harness. Or maybe he just ripped it.

"Maker," Garrett groans, the sudden pain from the harsh removal adding a certain something to the situation that stirs his deepest desires. Oh, he's gonna get fucked so good.

"Hawke."

The Arishok doesn't often use his name, and definitely not in that tone. That tone that has Garrett instinctively tense his back and moan in excitement. He turns his head to look back. "Yes?"

"Are you prepared enough?"

"Well..." Garrett looks down at the Arishok's hard cock and swallows. It's still the most magnificent cock he has ever seen and by now it has grown even more. He's gonna be fucked in so many ways. But what a magnificent, glorious, spectacular cock!

Still, he isn't out to permanently hurt himself. "A bit more stretching might be a good idea, actually."

The Arishok grabs a large wine bottle from the table and Garrett praises his quick reactions to flip around in time and grab the thing before it's shoved into his ass.

"No," Garrett says firmly. "Do you know what kind of injuries glass bottles can cause? We're using professional tools here."

He brought his usual bag with him, full of toys, grease and oils. Usually he is the one using the dildos and strap-ons on clients — some of the chantry types have this strange justification that it's not a sin or breaking of vows if it's not a real cock. Garrett couldn't care less, if it pleases the client, he does what they ask for. Or at least he did, back in the days.

He picks the largest dildo in his pack, a huge thing made from polished wood. It still doesn't come close to the size he's going to take but it will at least prepare him somewhat. With a glance at the Ariskock's prominent cock, he slathers the dildo with the special salve that Anders made for him. The muscle relaxant combined with healing elfroot will do wonders to his hole.

"Here, if you would?" He hands the dildo out to the Arishok and turns back around, shoving pillows under his stomach and stretches up his ass. The tip of the dildo presses against the rim of his hole and the Arishok is firm but not brutal as he pushes the thing into him. He moves the dildo, stretching and rubbing over his prostate in a repeating, even movement, almost mechanical in its steadiness. 

Garrett wishes he had something to hold onto, his fists clenching into the pillows. Every push into his ass has him moan, loudly, and he doesn't care who hears it. The steady, repeated movement is soothing and after the initial stretch and with the help of Anders' salve, not painful anymore. He floats in a haze of pleasure and is about to drift off, and that's not something Kirkwall's most professional prostitute does on the job. 

He stretches his ass up and arches his back, pushing against the dildo. "How about you give me that glorious cock of yours now?"

"Yes." 

The dildo disappears from his ass, leaving him feeling empty. The Arishok leans over him, a hulking mass that seems to press down on him without even touching. "Could you use the salve, darling?" Garrett mumbles into the pillows.

The Arishok grunts and for a moment Garrett misses the hulking presence at his back. But after another breath, the heat of the Arishok's massive body is back, warming him like the sun. He breathes out, relaxing his muscles, waiting for the Arishok to breach him.

And breach he does. With a surprisingly gentle but steady pressure, that glorious cock presses into him, skewering him like a summerfest offering. Deeper and farther he is filled until Garrett is convinced he can taste the tip of the penis in his mouth. The Arishok waits, looming over Garrett's back, his breath blowing over his neck like hot desert wind. And then he pushes in even further.

Garrett howls. He can't form words, he can't even think. He barely holds on to the threads of his humanity, floating somewhere outside of his mind. He is filled, gloriously filled to the brim. 

The Arishok's cock is a solid weight in his ass, moving, rubbing, pushing, forcing his body to adjust. Every thrust has him gasp for breath and the burn of the stretch is all encompassing pleasure. He's driving into him deliciously with bumps and ridges that press into Garrett's walls and the Arishok doesn't slow down, stretching his rim wider than he ever thought possible. His thrusts are steady, pushing further and further, until he's flush with Garrett's ass.

Garrett's body has never been fuller, never been more dominated. The Arishok grunts with every push, thrusting into him hard and fast, holding Garrett's shoulders down with his massive hands. Garrett quite literally gets fucked into the mattress, fabric rubbing over his face, his own erection pressed between pillows and his stomach but he barely notices. All he can feel is how deliciously he is stretched, how thoroughly is filled, how this glorious cock fucks him like he has never been fucked before.

The Arishok grunts louder now, his thrusts pushing Garrett forward on the platform. Garrett finds the edge of some pole and holds onto it with all his strength. He pushes against the delicious force behind him, his own cock rubbing and leaking against a pillow. 

"Hawke." The Arishok slows his thrusts and brushes over Garrett's cheek with a finger. "I will come inside of you now. Do you object?"

Garrett gathers whatever coherent pieces he can find of himself and leans into the soft touch on his cheek. "Darling, please, I want everything from you."

The Arishok leans forward, almost as if he wants to kiss Garrett's cheek, but he rumbles into Garrett's ear. "You may take your satisfaction when I find mine."

Garrett shudders from the deep voice that warms him to the core. He almost comes right there on the spot. "You bet I will."

The Arishok leans back and then takes Garrett on the ride of his life. He presses Garrett down and thrusts into him, harder and faster and Garrett screams and laughs, groans and giggles, his body humming, all his senses focused on the impossible rush of pleasure and ecstasy filling him. 

At last, the Arishok roars, grabbing Garrett's hips to pull him up, setting him firmly in his lap and thrusting even deeper into him until a flood of wet heat fills Garrett's ass.

"Come now," the Arishok orders and Garrett yells as his climax punches through him, shaking him, his cum splattering over his own stomach and then his mind goes white.

He returns to himself as he's pressed against the Arishok's chest, trapped between those tree trunk arms. His lower body is wet everywhere, liquid gushing out of his hole, his stomach sticky with his spend. The Arishok holds him, surprisingly gentle and Garrett leans back with a sigh.

The Arishok's voice rumbles behind him. "Your performance was admirable, basalit-an Hawke."

Garrett relaxes with a deep breath. "I must thank you myself; this was an astonishing experience."

The Arishok makes a noise that could be a chuckle but who knows with a qunari. He lifts Garrett up and drapes him onto the pillows and hands him a water bottle, watching as he drinks from it. Tying something like a skirt around his waist, he gets up and turns to Garrett. 

"I will call the dwarf to get you. I will let him know that I am satisfied."

"Thank you, darling." Garrett tries to move but he doesn't have more than a weak handwave in him.

He must have fallen asleep because he wakes to warm magic wrapping around him. His whole body aches pleasantly, the magic taking the sharp edged pains away. He recognises the magic, he always does. "Thanks, Anders," he mumbles and slowly opens his eyes.

Anders looks down at him, his glowing hands hovering over Garrett's lower body and shakes his head. "I can't believe you actually did this."

"The Arishok, Anders. I got fucked by the _Arishok_."

"I know, you stupid knobhead," Anders says, shaking his head.

Garrett manages to raise his head. "Anders, you have no idea. That cock! You should have seen it, it's magnificent, gigantic!"

"I can tell."

"But you can fix me?"

Anders sighs and lowers his hands, the magic fading away. "Yes, you won't be sitting comfortably for a while but you'll be fine."

"You're the best," Garrett says and falls back onto the pillows. "Please fix my pretty ass."

Anders smiles and shakes his head again. "I'll fix your pretty ass. But you're still phenomenally stupid."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!


End file.
